The Office: Engaged Ain't Married
by Donnamour1969
Summary: Now Complete! What if Jim hadn't left Scranton after he kissed Pam on Casino Night? This is the Season 3 I wished we'd had. AU. Romance, humor, and a little light angst. Rated T/M for adult content.
1. Jim

**A/N: This is what I would have liked to have happened after ****_Casino Night_****. If Jim hadn't have given up so easily and grown a pair, we would have avoided the whole Karen debacle. Hope you like what I do here.**

**The Office: Engaged Ain't Married**

**Chapter 1: Jim**

After I kissed Pam on Casino Night, I sat in my car in the Dunder Mifflin parking lot and cried like a baby. My first instinct was to go home and pack my bags for Stamford and that job Jan had promised me. I didn't want to be here anymore. It had been bad enough watching Pam be engaged; I didn't think I could handle seeing her married to someone else.

Married.

_Jesus_.

My second instinct was to go back inside the warehouse and get wasted, but as I wiped my eyes angrily with the backs of my hands, blew my nose on a handful of leftover McDonald's napkins on the console, a miracle occurred: Pam emerged from the front door of the office building, looking as bad as I felt. Even in the security lights, I could see her blotchy face. She'd been crying too. Don't get me wrong—the worst thing in the world is to see a woman cry, especially if you had something to do with it—but as selfish as it might seem, her obvious pain gave me hope.

I almost followed my third instinct and got out of the car to comfort her, but at the last minute, reason prevailed and I ducked down in my seat so she wouldn't see me. Pam was an honorable woman, which, of course, was one of the reasons I loved her so damn much. She'd given her word to Roy, so _her _first instinct had been to refuse me, to say that she valued our friendship, that she was sorry.

But her kiss hadn't seemed like she was sorry. She'd kissed me back.

When my hands had slid over her wrists, I'd felt her pulse fluttering wildly. Her eyes had been wide with shock, and yes, come to think of it, _desire. _I'm certainly not an expert on women, but I know when a girl responds positively to what I'm doing. Her hands had been in my hair, and her breath had caught the moment our lips touched. Was I totally reading this wrong?

I'd been so overwhelmed by my own feelings, by my incredible disappointment, I hadn't stopped to analyze how much her words had belied her actions, but I'd respected her decision and left. Seeing her as wiped out as I was, as outwardly upset after she rejected me, I wasn't so sure marriage to Roy was what she wanted. At the very least, she was torn. And torn meant all was not lost.

_Engaged ain't married._

_Never, ever, ever give up._

Michael Scott wasn't exactly a love guru, but I'll be damned if his advice from the Booze Cruise didn't seem eerily relevant now.

"He's right," I said to my empty car. "What the hell?"

As I heard Pam's car drive out of the lot, I sat up, started my car, and followed a good distance behind. It was late, and I felt compelled to see her home safely.

I'd hit her with a lot tonight, I realized. I'd confessed my love, kissed her for the first time (if you didn't count the night of the Dundies). She needed time to process just as much as I did—more, even. I'd taken her totally by surprise, and she'd told me what she knew she should, considering her fiancé.

_You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that._

_Me too._

I replayed our conversation in my mind now, as the fog of hurt feelings began to lift. How had I blocked out _that_ little tidbit?

"Me too," she'd said. And then we'd established that neither of us was drunk, so no excuses there.

A happily engaged, sober woman didn't want to kiss someone who wasn't her fiancé.

So, I would let Pam sleep on this decision she'd made, give her some space to think. I would be in the office tomorrow, at my desk as usual, five feet away, and I was not going to give up until she was actually standing in a church saying _I do_ to Roy Anderson.

I took a deep breath.

"Engaged ain't married," I repeated out loud. It was sounding better and better.

I had less than a month to turn things around, to convince her that I was the better man for her, that we belonged together. I'd heard her on the phone to her mom just before I kissed her. _I _was her best friend, she'd said; she hadn't mentioned Roy. And by the way, how are you not best friends with your fiancé?

I watched from just down her street as Pam pulled into her driveway, watched as she got out of her car, wiping her eyes with a Kleenex, visibly pulling herself together before walking up to the front door and letting herself in. Did it physically pain me to know she was going inside to a man that wasn't me? That she might be kissing him when her lips had been warm and sweet beneath mine just thirty minutes before?

Nothing was new about the answer to the first question, I guess; I'd been dealing with those images for years. As for the second, well, now I knew what I was missing, and the acuteness of that particular pain felt like a knife to my gut. But I know Pam, and no matter whether she stayed with Roy or not, she was still thinking about our kiss, and likely feeling tremendous guilt about it. It was up to me to be sure her guilt was for being with him, not for kissing me.

Right then, I heartily accepted the challenge. "Oh, Beesly; it is so on."

When her door was safely closed, I drove on past, a smile overtaking my face.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

I showed up for work a little early the next morning, anxious to see her. It wasn't like I'd slept a wink last night anyway. I knew that she and the camera crew were usually the first to arrive in the office. I had no idea what they had recorded of what happened between us last night, but I was sure that Pam would appreciate me playing it cool regardless.

Sure enough, she had just turned on her computer, and the doc crew was setting up when I walked in. She looked up at the door, startled at my arrival. I mustered my usual grin of good morning. Didn't want to scare her off.

"Hey," I said softly, taking my usual place leaning on the reception desk. _See,_ I tried to convey, _I'm okay. Are you okay?_

She swallowed, her face flushing, and glanced nervously down before summoning the courage to look up and meet my eyes. That's my girl. My heart began a heightened pounding.

"Hi," she said.

"Sleep okay?"

"Not really. It was a uh, late night," she hastily added. She didn't want me to misinterpret anything else, I supposed.

"Yeah. I didn't sleep much either."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Not your fault. I started it."

I was hugely relieved when she smiled and blushed anew, then laughed nervously. No matter what happened, there would always be _this_ between us.

Since we were the only subjects in the office, I felt the camera suddenly focused on us. I took a deep breath, watched her eyes drop briefly to my mouth, then hastily back up to my eyes. My heart gave a loud _thump_. _Yes, I'm thinking about it too._

"I just want you to know," I began softly, "I meant what I said last night, and I'm not going anywhere."

She didn't seem to know what to say, but I chose to take that as a good sign. Michael's arrival took the attention partly off us, and the three of us got caught up in his usual silly banter, mainly about the success of the casino fundraiser. Michael in a good mood was a double-edged sword—it could be both amusing and painfully awkward for the rest of us. He'd had the attention of two women the night before, so his ego had gotten a good long stroking. He was primed and ready for the day. One by one, the rest of my coworkers arrived, and we were all feeling the dread of a Michael in rare form.

As distracting as he was, however, I couldn't stop looking over at Pam, enjoying how she alternately cringed and laughed at our boss's antics. I found that I was not in the mood to take on Michael or even Dwight, and I let jokes pass by me like cars on the interstate. Pam caught my eye a few times, and a new, even deeper intimacy relayed between us across the short distance. And so went the morning.

I sat by her at one of the tables in the break room like nothing had changed, my usual ham and cheese tasteless in my mouth, while she picked at her salad.

"How are things at home?" I asked boldly, mindful of the others trickling in with their own lunches, or stopping at the vending machines. And as always, the camera crew watched all of us.

"Okay."

So, not _wonderful,_ or _better than ever_. Just…_okay_.

The conversation around us turned to last night's revels, complaints about money lost, laughter and teasing ensuing. Pam and I only halfheartedly joined in. Before I got up to throw away the remnants of my lunch, I risked a squeeze of her small hand resting on her knee beneath the table. She only jumped a little, and her face turned pink, but she didn't move her hand, and thankfully didn't slap my face. I felt the soft fabric of her skirt just above where my palm rested. Her hand was cold, and what my fingers touched of her knee was hot. I tried not to find any deeper meaning in the contrast; instead, I stared at her face, willing her to meet my eyes.

"Jim," she said quietly, inaudible above the chatter to everyone but me. I couldn't tell if she was admonishing me, encouraging me, or merely acknowledging me. My thumb circled her knuckles.

When she met my eyes at last, I smiled at her with a confidence I didn't completely feel, and with a last caress, stood up to head to the trash can. I'm guessing she was as shaken by the covert physical contact as I was. I found I was a little worked up, both emotionally and physically, so I left the breakroom and took the back stairs, jogging lightly around the building. When I came back to the office, everyone was back at work, including Pam. She looked up from her computer curiously, met my eyes, but look hastily away.

I hated this awkwardness more than anything. I loved her and she knew it now. I felt like a weight had been lifted, but I was sad too that I might have ruined our friendship over this. In my new quest to win her, I had to do something about that.

That afternoon, the camera crew caught me for a private interview in the conference room.

**Producer**: So, what's up with you and Pam?

**Me**: What's up with me and Pam? Nothing. Same old same old.

**Producer:** We saw you two last night in the parking lot. And then upstairs.

**Me:** Oh. Well then you heard she's still marrying Roy. I took my shot. She made her choice. What else can I do?

**Producer:** What about Stamford?

**Me: **I don't know if I'm taking the job in Stamford.

**Producer:** Won't it be hard to stay here now?

**Me:** Yes. But we're both adults. What would that say about me if I ran away?

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In the past, I had stood idly by (usually at Pam's desk) and watched as Roy treated her like crap. I'd listened on countless occasions as she'd recounted near tears something selfish he had done, something thoughtless or stupid. Why hadn't I been a real friend and told her to get the hell out? I had told myself I was being supportive, respecting her decision to stay with that jerk, but to tell you the truth, I had mainly been scared to death. I'm not just talking about the fact that Roy would quite possibly kill me if he knew I was moving in on his girl; I was afraid of Pam's rejection, pure and simple, with the added fear that I would lose her friendship.

But kissing her had changed everything. If she hadn't kissed me back, I'd be moving on. So, here we were. But if I was going to win her, I couldn't just grab her and kiss her again, no matter how much I wanted to. I would have to step things up though, because time was definitely running out.

So, did I merely hover in front of Reception? No. I went _behind _her desk, a position I only used to dare when something exciting was happening in the office. I stood closer to her, took her hand more. Plotted and planned an elaborate new prank on Dwight with her. When we had another pointless meeting in the conference room, I sat by her as usual, but was sure to press my knee to hers, "accidentally" brush my arm against hers, lean in to whisper a joke over something ridiculous Michael said, pleased when I felt her tense and shiver a little when my breath stirred her hair.

I didn't mention the kiss, or my declaration, but it was definitely there between us, an amplified awareness that had once been easy to play down as friendship. I wanted her to be comfortable with me again, but not _too_ comfortable, if you know what I mean. The ultimate test came when Roy came in at lunch time. This time, I didn't scurry away from Reception; I stood my ground, looked him dead in the eye. His eyes narrowed, and his nostrils actually flared. I felt the tension in Pam, but Roy said nothing about my proximity to her, and I found that I didn't feel nearly as intimidated now that I felt I had a legitimate stake here. On at least some level, Pam shared my feelings, I was sure of it; all the rest was just semantics.

The weekend came, and I did something else I rarely did: I texted her outside of work. In the past, I'd respected that her homelife with Roy was off limits. I was fighting for our lives here though, so everything was fair game now. "Engaged ain't married" echoed in my brain. I guess it had become my official mantra.

_Me: Hey, just wanted you to know that __**Legally Blonde**__ is on channel 8._

_Pam: Lol. No way. Are you going to watch it?_

_Me: I will if you will._

_Pam: You've already seen it though, right?_

_Me: It's a chick flick, Beesly._

_Pam: So yes?_

_Me: No. OK, yes. _

_Pam: Lol. I'm changing the channel to it right now._

_Me: So, you're sitting home on a Saturday night? _

_Pam: As are you, apparently._

_Me: How do you know I'm not having a big party, and everyone suddenly wanted to watch a Reese Witherspoon romcom? Judgy much?_

_Pam: Yeah, ok._

_Me: We're doing each other's hair and nails later. _

_Pam: Who's we?_

_Me: Uh…Mark and I and his girlfriend. _

_Pam: I'd seriously pay big money to see that_

_Me: Come on over. You can pick the nail polish._

It seemed like an eternity for her to reply, while my pulse beat erratically. Too far, inviting her over like that? Five minutes, and her next text came through.

_Pam_: _Sorry. Was saying goodbye to Roy. He's playing poker with the guys in the warehouse._

_Me: You're not going with him? I figured after last week, you were on a roll._

_Pam: Yeah._

And there it was, another reminder of what had happened on Casino Night. Palms sweating, I took the plunge and called her. I mean, I'd crossed one invisible line tonight, and she was still talking to me…

"Hey," she said, a note of surprise in her voice.

"Hey. So, I have a question about this movie."

She laughed-nervously? "What? We're seriously going to analyze _Legally Blonde_? Are Mark and his girlfriend there?"

"No, they're down in the living room. I don't think they're watching much TV though—which is why I came upstairs."

"You're in your bedroom?"

"Yep."

She was thinking about when she'd been here before with me, the night of my barbecue. God knows imagining her here had kept me awake many nights since. I bunched my pillows behind my head and dug in.

"So…what was your question?" she asked.

"My question is, do you think fake fur is gonna make a comeback in women's fashion? And if not, why the hell not?"

"_That's_ your question? Nothing about how society judges women by their clothes, or their hair, or if a woman's self-worth should be based on whether a man wants her or not?"

"That's what this is about?" I said dryly. "I thought it was about how hot Reese Witherspoon looks in a bikini."

"Typical," she tsked. "Obviously, you have not begun to plumb the depths of this movie. I'm so glad you called so I can open your mind to the misogynistic constructs of our male-centric society."

I was trying very hard not to laugh, as I knew she was by the way her voice trembled a little toward the end of her erudite statement.

"Well, I guess I've come to the right place. Thank you, Pam. I'm anxious to get started on my re-education." I did laugh then, and she followed too. "You know," I said, a thought occurring, "I think Harry and Sally did this very same thing."

A movie about best friends who later became lovers. I gotta say, a stroke of genius on my part, as far as planting subliminal messages goes.

"Only I think _they _watched _Casablanca_," Pam was saying. "Much as I love _Legally Blonde_, sort of an apples and oranges thing."

"I don't know, I see some similarities. I mean, between us and Harry and Sally."

She was quiet a moment, absorbing what I meant. "Jim—" she began.

But I couldn't stand her putting up walls again, or worse, ignoring what was between us. "Pam," I interrupted, "you kissed me back." It just slipped out, I swear.

"It was wrong of me. I'm engaged."

I could hear Reese Witherspoon's girly voice on her TV, echoing the one in my room.

"It didn't feel wrong. I can't stop thinking about it, can you?"  
"No," she admitted softly.

"So, what are we going to do about it?"

"I told you; I'm marrying Roy. We _can't_ do anything about it."

"We could if you let yourself. Why are you marrying him?" _Jeeze, Halpert_. Well, in for a penny…

"Because I promised; I made a commitment."

"Huh, well I expected you to say because you love him, and you can't imagine your life without him. That's what I'd say if I had a fiancé."

"Jim, please, you have to stop this."

She was starting to get angry, but then, so was I. I took a few deep breaths, prayed quietly for strength. Last thing I wanted to do was to have to start from square one again, like I had last week.

"I'm sorry. I'm really not trying to upset you. I—it's just—I—it's frustrating, okay? You know how I feel about you. I don't think I imagined how good it was between us, did I? Was it all in my head? Because if you tell me there's nothing there, I'll back off. I don't think I can stay here and watch you marry him, though."

"Is that an ultimatum? If I marry Roy, you'll just…leave?"

"No, it's not like that. It's not to hurt you. It would be self-preservation."

She was quiet a moment, and when she spoke again, I could hear the tears in her voice. My own throat was getting tight with them.

"Where would you go?"

"Stamford. Jan already lined me up a job. With your wedding coming up, I had to make a backup plan. God, Pam, I don't want to leave, I can't imagine not seeing you every day, not laughing with you. It's gonna kill me, but I don't see another way, do you?"

"I don't want you to go," she whispered.

"Then give me a reason to stay."

I hadn't planned to say all that, hadn't planned to lay it all out there. When she didn't reply, I rushed to fill the silence before she hung up or something.

"Look," I backtracked, "can I come over, or can we meet somewhere? I really didn't mean to get into this on the phone—"

"No!"

"Why not?"

"You know why."

I hoped I knew, but I needed her to say it. "Why not, Pam?"

"Because…because you know what will happen if we're alone."

"What will happen?"

Yes, I was pushing her, and in my mind I was praying a nonspecific: _please, please, please…_

"God, Jim. I—I'm—I'm afraid I'll—I'll kiss you again. There, I admit it. Are you happy now?" I _was_, deliriously so, but she was crying for sure now, so I didn't say that.

"I'll be there in ten minutes," I said instead, already jumping off my bed and scanning my floor for my shoes. I could barely focus now; my mind was racing and the pounding in my head was deafening. "Make that five if I—"

There was an involuntary bark of laughter on the other end of the phone at my obvious eagerness.

"No, don't! Please. You have to let me think now, okay? I have to figure this out for myself."

She sniffled, and I could hear her reaching for a Kleenex or something. Somewhat deflated, I sat heavily back on my bed.

We were both quiet now, save for her soft breathing. _I _was holding my breath. Finally, I let it out in a rush, my free hand raking anxiously through my hair. I was literally shaking as my adrenaline cooled.

"Okay," I said. "I'll let you think. But while you're weighing the pros and cons of this mess, remember what I said last week: I love you, Pam. You can't even imagine how much. This is totally it for me. And if there's a chance that you—Jesus, Pam, don't marry him. I should have said this before, but I was too chicken shit. If you feel the same way about me, you can't marry him, you just can't!"

Another heavy pause, then she said: "So much for letting me figure this out for myself."

I laughed, relieved, though everything was far from resolved. "Sorry. That was laying it on pretty thick. I'll let you go now, unless you want to talk some more, or finish watching the movie together…"

"Tempting, but I meant what I said. I need to think, I can't do that when I talk to you, or if I'm around you. I'll see you on Monday, okay?"  
"Okay…And hey…I love you." It was getting easier to say every time.

"I—good night, Jim."

I grinned. She'd almost said it. "Night, Beesly."

I ended the call and lay back on my bed, closing my eyes as I replayed our entire conversation in my mind. For the first time in a long time, I actually looked forward to a Monday. But damned if I didn't watch the rest of that stupid chick flick, just to feel some pathetic connection to her. And you know what? It was just as bad as I remembered it; I mean, really, _really _bad—not that I'd ever mention that to Pam.

**A/N: Next up, Pam's point of view. I hope, if there's anyone out there reading this, that you come back for chapter 2. Thanks! PS: Reviews are always highly appreciated!**


	2. Pam Jim

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading the first chapter, and especially to those who took the time to review. I hope you enjoy this second installment.**

**Chapter 2: Pam/Jim**

**_Part 1: Pam_**

On Monday, I called in sick for the first time in a year or more. I knew they would put Ryan in to watch the phone, and he always did an adequate job, so I wasn't worried about work. And no, I wasn't really sick; I just couldn't face Jim yet.

Roy had seemed genuinely concerned this morning, pressing his calloused hand to my forehead, asking if I needed anything. He'd even brought me tea and buttered toast before he left, setting it gingerly beside our bed.

"I'll call you later to check on you," he'd said, kissing my cheek. "You know where I'll be if you need me."

"Yeah. Thanks. I'm sure I'll be fine. I just need to rest."

"Guess I took a lot out of you last night," he'd said with a smug grin. "Feel better, Pami. Love you."

"Have a good day."

When I heard the front door close and Roy's truck roar away, I burrowed beneath the covers and let myself cry. Why did Roy suddenly have to be so sweet? That was a side to him few others besides me had ever seen, and part of the reason I'd fallen in love with him nine years ago. It nearly overwhelmed me with guilt now, after where my thoughts had been since Jim had kissed me.

And yesterday, Sunday, when Roy had made love to me…it was actually painful to think about it. Don't get me wrong—Roy had always tried to please me, to satisfy me, and most of the time he did. Not that I would know any different, considering he'd been my first and only. When Roy had helped me get the job at Dunder Mifflin three years ago, and I'd met Jim, I'd managed to suppress any errant romantic thoughts of him when Roy and I made love. Yesterday, I'd allowed myself to imagine Roy was Jim, and it had been the best sex of my life. I knew now how Jim's mouth felt on mine, how his warm hands on my waist had pulled me tentatively closer, how his hair was soft and fine beneath my fingers. I knew how he'd tasted—like tequila and lime from his margarita at the Casino Night bar. I'd already known how good he always smelled, and believe me, that had weighed heavily in my fantasy yesterday when I was with Roy.

Oh, God, what did that say about me? How could I be such a terrible person? I was getting married in less than two weeks, and a man who was not my fiancé had excited me more with a chaste kiss than any from Roy had ever done, not even when we were first together. How could I possibly marry Roy when my feelings were so messed up? How could I _not_ marry him, after all these years together?

My cell phone dinged on the nightstand. I flipped it open and saw it was a text. From Jim. My traitorous heart skipped a beat.

_Are you okay?_

_Yes, just under the weather._

_You really sick?_

_No._

_Are you gone because of me?_

_Yes. Partly. Things have been very…difficult. I'm not ready to talk about it yet._

_Ok. Well, I'm here if you need anything._

_I know. Thanks._

_I miss you. Ryan is pretty, but not nearly as pretty as you are. _

I stared at his last message for a good five minutes. No sense in lying now. Heart racing, I texted.

_I miss you too._

I could imagine Jim's expression at seeing that text, I knew his face so well. His hazel eyes would widen in surprise, maybe water a bit in emotion. Or maybe they would go all dreamy, like when he looked at me when he thought I didn't know. It made my heart ache to remember when he'd told me he was in love with me, the devastation in his eyes when I'd rejected him.

A few minutes later, he texted me again.

_You're making me crazy, Beesly._

I laughed.

_I'm sorry. I don't mean to._

I was glad when he changed the subject.

_So you've missed the fun this morning. I convinced Dwight that the copy machine is working by voice command. Funny how it only works for me though._

_Lol. How did you do that?_

_Come into work and I'll tell you __?__. Right now he's asking it to staple and collate—very loudly._

_Good one._

_Just passing the time._

_I'll be in tomorrow._

_Maybe by then I'll have Dwight talking to the microwave._

_Well have him tell it to clean itself, will you? That thing is always a mess._

_Lol. Ok. I'd better go. Catch ya later._

Jim's cursor went to flashing ellipses, as he seemed to continue typing for much longer than the final message. Whatever he had first intended to say, he'd changed his mind. What a hypocrite I was, when I realized I was waiting for him to text that he loved me. He didn't though. He was trying not to push me, I could tell, but this left me wanting…It was getting harder and harder to deny what it was that I wanted. I sighed, felt my eyes fill with tears.

_Bye, _I texted, but he didn't respond.

At around five that evening, I got out of bed and took a shower. I hadn't eaten all day and felt decidedly weak and dehydrated. Roy would be home soon, so I put some pork chops on to cook. After a good long drink of water, I poured a full glass of wine.

I think you could call what I had Jim flu.

When Roy grabbed me and kissed me passionately in the kitchen later, I realized sadly that Roy would never be the cure.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

The next day the camera crew interviewed me in the conference room.

Me: "I'm fine. Thanks for asking. A little rest made me feel good as new."

Producer: "What about Jim?"

Me: "I don't know. Was he sick too?"

Sometimes I was extremely proud of my own sarcasm. Of course, I went back and apologized later; it wasn't the crew's fault I felt like crap.

Jim and Dwight went out on a sales call, so that kept some of the pressure/guilt off for the day, allowing us only a chance for a good morning, with a few meaningful looks before he left with Dwight. They came back right at quitting time, arriving at the same time as my little sister Penny. I hadn't seen her in a few weeks, and she probably became instantly suspicious when I hugged her extra tightly and had tears in my eyes when we pulled apart.

"What's wrong?" she whispered.

I shook my head, unable to put words to feelings, especially when I saw over her shoulder how stricken Jim looked at my distressed expression as an annoyed Dwight brushed past and went to his desk. We stood like an island in the stream of my departing coworkers.

"I'm just happy to see you," I said to my sister, forcing a smile I didn't feel.

We were all interrupted when my friend Isabel and two other old high school buddies came through the door, all wearing fake tiaras, fluffy pink boas, and _Bachelorette Party_ sashes.

"Surprise!" they said in unison.

"Welcome to your surprise bachelorette party!" They squeed like teenagers.

"What? It's a work night!" I protested, sounding lame to my own ears.

"That's what makes it such a surprise, silly," said Penny, a pretty smile on her angelic face. "Get your stuff; you're being kidnapped and taken to an unknown location."

"Excuse me," said Jim, since Penny, the girls and I were now blocking the way.

I remembered my manners. "Oh, uh, everybody, this is Jim. Jim, this is my sister Penny, and my friends from Scranton High, Isabel, Cassie, and Claire."

My girlfriends, having heard mention of Jim over the years, stared at my tall friend in awe at his adorableness. I felt my face flush with a weird kind of pride.

"Nice to finally meet you," said Penny. I wanted to slug her suddenly, but I didn't quite know why. Jim, of course, was all Jim Charming.

"Wow, Beesly, I thought you only hung out with nerds in high school."

My still-dorky friends tittered like the quarterback had given them the eye.

"You know," said Cassie flirtatiously, "no rule says guy friends can't come."

"Oh, well, thank you, but I can already tell I'm not cool enough for _this_ party."

I caught his eye; I was in no mood to celebrate my upcoming nuptials, and his smile faltered a bit as he once again read my mind. And then he came to my rescue.

"Sure you're feeling up to it, Pam? You were home sick just yesterday."

"What?" Penny said, "Roy didn't tell me you'd been sick. He said you'd been stressed out and a party might loosen you up."

"That was sweet of him," I said to Jim's raised eyebrow. It was then I realized the doc crew was recording this entire scene.

"Well, if you felt well enough to come into work, I bet you could make it out for at least a quick drink," said Isabel. "Come on, Pam. It'll be good for you. Have a little fun. Your days as a single girl are numbered, you know."

But the decision seemed to be out of my hands, as Penny rummaged through my desk drawer for my purse, and Claire grabbed my sweater from the back of my chair. As if from thin air, a tiara appeared in Isabel's hand, and she placed it upon my head while Jim looked on in amusement.

_Help_, I mouthed, but he shrugged and gave his trademark smirk. As I was whisked away by my well-meaning friends, he waved cheerfully and smiled, then turned away to get his stuff to leave for the day.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Four shots, a beer, and a couple of unidentified fruity mixed drinks Isabel and Claire procured from the bar, and I was probably as drunk as I'd been during the last Dundies at Chili's. For the first time in several days, I felt light and happy and free. We were in a club and the music was loud, the drinks expensive. When I looked around, I noticed there were mostly women, and there was a big stage in the middle of the dance floor. I'd been blindfolded since we'd left my favorite Italian restaurant (where I'd already had two glasses of wine) but once we got inside, I quickly realized what kind of place this was. I'd driven by The Diamond Room in the past, but it was normally a gentlemen's club. Lucky me they were doing a male dance review tonight.

The MC came out on stage to introduce the show, the music abruptly shifting to the opening trumpet salvo from the disco hit, "YMCA."

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen! We all know that sometimes it takes a village to please a woman—you guys out there know what I mean, am I right?"

It was the women in the audience (including me, I might add) who screamed in the affirmative.

"Well, we aim to please!"

The music was cranked up, and in came the evening's entertainment, all dressed in costumes like the old band The Village People, complete with cop, Native American, construction worker, cowboy, biker dude, and sailor. I'm sure there was copyright infringement going on all over the place, but as the song shifted to "Macho Man," and the guys on the stage started doing their thing, no one was caring too much.

"If you make me get a lap dance, I'll kill you," I yelled in my sister's ear. She pretended not to hear me, just smiled, looking purposefully obtuse. Great.

From there, things get a little hazy for me. I remember drinking some more and sticking lots of dollar bills into lots of g-strings, but I think after I went outside for some fresh air (I remember it was extremely hot inside the club, the air oppressive with all the strong perfumes around me), I lost a big chunk of time.

I do vaguely remember a call, a kiss, and waking up in the hospital, but not many of the details. Someday, I'll have to ask the camera crew for that footage. Maybe they can help me fill in some of those pesky blanks. Or not. Maybe I don't want to know.

**_Part 2: Jim_**

So there I was, minding my own business, watching a basketball game on a weeknight, when I got a call from Pam. A very drunk, very freaked out Pam.

"Jim! I'm too drive to drunk and they won't let me back in the club and my purse is gone and can you come and get me?" Impressive that she said that all in one breath.

You would think my first thought would have been: _Have you called Roy? _ _You know, your fiancé?_ In fact, after feeling my heart skip a beat at the sound of her obvious distress, there was the additional instant fear knowing she was drunk and alone and possibly in danger. I was already putting on my shoes and grabbing my keys.

"Where are you?" In the background I could hear the faint beat of dance music.

"The Diamond Room. Penny isn't answering her phone and I'm standing outside."

I wasn't sure exactly what was going down, but I was already out the door and sprinting to my car.

"Okay, I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Stay on the phone with me."

"Okay. I'm sorry Jim," she said, her voice slurred. "You don't deserve any of this. It's all my fault."

I got in my car, put her on speaker as I backed down the driveway and sped toward the interstate.

"Explain to me exactly why you're outside the club."

She gave a very convoluted answer, but I was able to decipher that she had gone out for air, and the club policy is that you can't get back in unless you pay. She'd left her purse in the club with her sister, so she had no money, and it was so loud inside (and Penny was probably drunk too) that she didn't hear Pam trying to call her.

During my drive, I tried to soothe her, but she kept apologizing to me. I don't think it was because she'd called me in the middle of the night to come and get her. She was sorry for what she'd been putting me through since I kissed her. While I appreciated that, she was drunk and so it didn't count. Nothing that she said or did tonight counted; I had to keep telling myself that as I listened to her alcohol roughened voice, all girly and sweet and sexy. Like that night at the Dunfies.

_Shit._

That was the first time she'd kissed me, and I don't even know if she remembered it. I definitely hadn't brought it up in the days after. Whatever the case, it counted with me.

"I've been so stupid," she was saying. "Will you ever forgive me?"

Oh, God, was she drunk crying now?

"There's nothing to forgive Pam. Please, don't cry. I'm almost there. Can you sit in your car maybe? Just don't start it or they can get you for drunk driving."

"Oh! My car! I didn't drive!" She laugh-cried hysterically. "I totally forgot! We came in a limo. There it is over there! I'm going to sit in there. It's big and pink, Jim, like Pepto-Bismol, or the Path Pinker. The Pith Panker. Crap. My tongue isn't working right. "

I laughed. "The Pink Panther?"

"Yes! You're so smart Jim. You've always been so smart. Damn! This door is so heavy! How the hell am I supposed to shut the door once I'm in here?"

I heard a lot more cuss words I'd never heard from the sweet lips of Pam Beesly, then the sharp bang of a car door closing. I grinned in spite of myself.

"Where's the driver?"

"He's having a smoke with the club bouncer. They're over by the club door."

"Stay put. I'm just pulling into the parking lot." I'd made the trip in ten minutes—I couldn't tell you how fast I was driving; I don't remember once looking at the speedometer.

I pulled up beside the limo—and yes, it was in fact a horrendous pink. I grimaced just looking at it. Through the tinted back windows I could faintly see that someone was in there, but no way I could tell it was Pam. I waved to the camera crew, annoyed suddenly that they had just stood by and watched the whole thing without helping her. I got out of my car, barely remembering to turn off the key. My pulse was starting to slow as relief settled over me. I opened the limo door and leaned inside.

"Hey," I said, smiling at the picture she made.

Pam was sprawled awkwardly on the long bench seat, her skirt riding up her thighs, her blouse unbuttoned low enough that I could see her cleavage and the hint of black lace. A plastic tiara rested crookedly on her head. The low-heeled shoes she usually wore to work were on the floor instead of on her small feet. I'd just registered that her toenails were painted blue when she reached up and grabbed my arm.

"Jim! You're here!"

I lost my balance and fell inside, heard her breathless _oomph _as my face landed on her soft belly. She giggled as I struggled to sit up, no mean feat for a tall guy like me in a closed space.

"If you're gonna do that, you should at least buy me a drink first," she said, as I sat beside her on the seat, trying to catch my breath. She laughed at her own joke, and I knew my face was flushed from my close encounter with her torso.

"I think you've had enough drinks, don't you?" I finally managed, nervously smoothing down my hair.

"Oh, come on. It's my bachelorette party. I'm s'pose to drink. You old pooper party."

She was so cute, I couldn't correct her. I reached for her hand. It was hot and just a little clammy.

"Here, let me get you into my car, then I'll pay to get in the club, get your purse, and tell your sister I'm taking you home."

"Oh, wow. You got it all figgered out. I knew I called the right person for the job."

"Couldn't get ahold of Roy?" I asked.

"Ha! And listen to him gripe all the way home? He hates it when I drink. Says I talk too much. No way I'm gonna marry that guy."

"What?" I said. _She's drunk, Halpert. She has no idea what she's saying right now._

"_You're_ the one I wanna marry!" And suddenly her arms were around my neck, and she was covering every inch of my face with frantic kisses, punctuating each with murmured words that I couldn't understand at first. My hands went up to pull her off, but she'd latched onto me like a starfish.

"I love your cheeks. And your eyes. And your forehead. And your chin. And God, I love your mouth—"

When her lips finally settled on mine, the whole world came to a crashing halt, and I just couldn't help myself: I kissed her back. With a little moan, her hands went to my hair in an achingly familiar way, and her sneaky little tongue had me opening my mouth to her in spite of myself. Jesus, can you get a contact _drunk_? Because the sweet taste of rum on her tongue was making me dizzy.

I knew I had to stop this. My head knew it was wrong, but it didn't feel wrong in my heart, or in my crotch, especially when she was practically sitting in my lap. For just a few moments, I allowed myself to savor what might have been, to have this last memory to torture myself with later. Her lips tore away from mine to take in air, and her mouth drifted from mine to my ear. I shivered, my eyes closing at how good it felt, how perfect it was, having her in my arms like this.

"Lemme tell ya a secret, Jim," she whispered. "You made me come so hard. It's never been like that with Roy."

I pulled away in shock. I hadn't even touched her. "What? Right now?"

She laughed. "No, silly, when—"

But she wasn't allowed to finish that thought, because next thing I knew, I was pulled off of her and out of the open door of the limo, bumping my head hard on the door frame on the way out. I lay on the parking lot, panting and looking up into the furious face of Roy Anderson.

"Get up, asshole!" he ordered.

I held up my hands. "Look, man, I'm sorry. It's not what you think—"

He laughed. "Yeah, right. Stand up, Halpert."

"Roy! Stop!" Pam had emerged from the limo, her face a mask of terror.

He turned angrily to his fiancé. "You shut up, bitch! I'll deal with you later."

Well, that did it. My fear for Pam totally overshadowed my fear for myself. I got to my feet, and managed to get one good punch in before his giant fist clocked me so hard I thought my eye socket was going to explode. Everything went black, and my last memory was when the back of my head hit the cold, hard pavement.

**A/N: Sorry for the minor cliffhanger. More soon, I promise! And I would love to know what you think. Thanks so much for reading.**


	3. Jim (again)

**A/N: Here is a relatively short update, but I wanted to get something out while I had time. I hope you all are enjoying this.**

**Chapter 3: Jim**

I woke up in a busy emergency room, feeling a bit groggy from whatever they'd put in my IV. The needle in my hand hurt more than where Ray had punched me, and it was also uncomfortable to breathe. Reaching beneath the covers, I found I was in a hospital gown, and my torso was wrapped like a mummy. I tentatively touched my face—the left side around my eye was swollen and tender, and the back of my head and neck were sore from when I'd hit the pavement. Yeah, this was definitely gonna hurt awhile, especially when the drugs wore off.

"You're awake," said a nurse, having entered my little curtained off section of the ER. She looked in annoyance at the doc crew, filming the whole thing.

"Yeah. How long have I been here?"

My voice sounded hoarse and distant.

"About three hours. You have a concussion, a nice shiner, and a few cracked ribs. Other than a couple uncomfortable weeks, you'll be just fine. Can you tell me your name and date of birth, and the year?"

I did with no trouble, although I was finding it a little difficult to stay in the moment. She began checking my vitals and my IV bag, then looked in my eyes with a penlight. She put an ice pack on my black eye.

"This is for the swelling. You kept knocking it off in your sleep."

"Thanks."

"The police have been wanting to talk to you. I was told to call them when you woke up."

"Police?"

"Yep. I hear they have the man in custody who did this to you." As this slowly registered, my last memories at the limo slammed into my dull brain.

_Oh God. Pam._

"Where's Pam?" I asked, and she had to push me down as my first impulse was to jump out of bed and find her.

"If you mean the young lady that was brought in with you…"

At this, she pulled the curtain back on my right side, revealing Pam in a bed just like mine, an IV hooked up to her as well. She seemed to be sleeping very deeply. Her sister sat in a chair beside her bed, fast asleep, or maybe passed out. No doubt she'd been drinking too.

"Is Pam all right?" I asked.

"She will be. Her blood alcohol levels were dangerously high. She was out of it when they brought her in. If she hadn't had dinner, like her sister said, things would be much worse."

"She wasn't…hurt?" I could still see Roy's furious face when he'd called Pam a bitch. It made me feel sick just thinking about it.

"No, not by the same Mack truck that apparently ran into you. She'll be fine after we get the alcohol flushed out of her system, and her body rehydrated. She your girlfriend?"

"Yes," I said immediately. If that wasn't true, I'd deal with the consequences later. Assuming that role might allow me certain privileges, here in the hospital anyway.

"We tried to get ahold of your next of kin we got from your insurance information, but we couldn't track them down."

"No, you wouldn't have. My parents are on a cruise," I remembered. "My brothers and sister live out of state…I have a roommate when I need a ride, I guess."

"Okay, we'll keep that in mind. The doctor is keeping you overnight for observation, given your concussion. We're getting a room ready for you upstairs."

"What about Pam?"  
"We're keeping her too."

"Any chance we can be in the same room?"

She shrugged. "I don't see why not. I'll give them a call upstairs."

"Thanks."

I closed my eyes in relief, then opened them again to look at Pam. Here we were as always, a mere five feet between us. She was lying on her side, her mouth slightly open in sleep, her face disturbingly pale. Earlier events flooded back with more clarity, and I remembered our hot kisses in the limo, how she'd said she wasn't marrying Roy. Of course, that could have been the alcohol talking. My last memory was of her yelling drunkenly for Roy not to kill me before I was out cold. Thank God she was okay. _Thank God_.

A police officer arrived about thirty minutes later, awakening me from a doze.

"It took the Diamond Room's bouncer, the limo driver, and your camera crew to pull him off of you, according to their statements. He got a few good kicks in, which explains your cracked ribs. The camera guys showed us the footage of the whole thing. Really weird to have them following your around all the time, I bet."

We both looked into the camera. "You don't even know," I said diplomatically.

"You want to press charges?" asked the cop.

"Is anyone else?"

"Not at this time. The Diamond Room and the limo company aren't, since there was no damage to their property. But you are totally within your rights to, given all your pain and suffering and medical bills. Anderson's in lockup downtown for drunken disorderly and assault. We can only keep him for twenty-four hours unless you choose to proceed with this. He might feel a bit more apologetic once he dries out."

So, he'd been drinking too. I wondered why he'd shown up at the club. Jealous, probably, knowing what Pam had hinted at in the past, and how he'd acted with me on more than one occasion. I thought a moment about having the book thrown at him, but I wasn't sure how Pam would feel about that. He was still her fiancé, as far as I knew, and I conceded that I probably deserved the punch in the eye for kissing an engaged woman.

"Can I decide tomorrow? These pain meds aren't letting me think too clearly."

"Sure," he said. "He's not going anywhere tonight. I doubt the DA will do anything if you let him off the hook. Let us know asap." He gave me his card. "Oh, and if you _are_ pressing charges, you might want to call a lawyer to help you with that."  
"Thanks."

Even if I didn't press charges against Roy, a night in jail would make us even for the kick in the ribs, I decided.

Pam and I were moved to our own room, but she was still out of it. Her sister, bleary eyed, her tiara and ragged pink boa now even more ironic, got up to leave once Pam was settled. Penny looked more hungover than drunk now.

"Tell her I'll be back tomorrow," she said, stopping by my bed on her way out. "Sorry for what Roy did. He always was an asshole. I hope this means she's finally done with him."

I shrugged. "I understand where he was coming from."

"Well, if it helps anything, I know Pam has been struggling lately with her feelings for him. And that's all I can say without giving away sisterly secrets." She smiled, and I thought dispassionately how beautiful and sweet she was. My type ran to a more understated beauty, however, with a brilliant sense of humor and mischievous hazel eyes. I felt myself grinning in return.

"Nice meeting you, Penny."

"I'm sure I'll see you around," she said with a wink, glancing at her sister.

My heart skipped a beat when I followed her gaze to Pam. Maybe there really _was_ hope now.

"Hey," I called softly, and she stopped at the door. "Bacon and eggs with a Gatorade chaser. Sure-thing for a hangover."

She laughed, then groaned when it hurt her head. "Thanks, Jim. You'll make someone a very lucky girl someday."

When the nurse came back in, she sent the camera crew packing, and I was grateful to be alone again with Pam, even if she didn't know it.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The light from beneath the hospital blinds was tinted pink when I felt something stirring against my good side. I opened my eyes groggily, felt a heaviness on my chest. I looked down and blinked. Was I dreaming?

"Pam," I whispered, finding it hard to contain my joy.

She had awakened in the night, dragged her IV cart across the room, and climbed into bed with me, curling against me in sleep. Her golden-brown hair tickled my neck, her arm and head resting on my chest. She was breathing deeply, but her skin felt chilled. I dislodged the blanket between us, readjusting with barely stifled moans of pain and some choice cusswords under my breath until we were wrapped in a warm cocoon. She snuggled closer, and I kissed the top of her head.

If all I ever got from her were a few kisses and this, it would be more than enough.

The next time I awoke, the sun was bright through the blinds and I could hear Pam vomiting in the bathroom. I sat up immediately, desperate to check on her and at least hold her hair back.

"Easy, cowboy," said the nurse, pushing me back down.

_Cowboy?_

"Is she okay?"

"This is all part of the process, as you probably know. She needs to get all the poison out of her system. We'll keep giving her fluids. Right now, you just relax. How are you feeling?"

"Like hell," I said honestly, flinching as my ribs pulled, and my head pounded.

"Also to be expected."

I shifted uncomfortably beneath the covers. I needed to use the bathroom, but for an entirely different reason. Sensing my discomfort, the nurse handed me a plastic urinal. I felt my face flush.

"I think she's gonna be awhile," she said in amusement. "I'll give you some privacy and check on her." She drew the curtain around my bed.

"Thanks."

I did my business, and it wasn't long till I heard the toilet flush in the bathroom, and the shower come on. I knew how good a hot shower felt after a bender, and I allowed myself to imagine her naked, just beyond the bathroom door. I closed my eyes and groaned again, in a different kind of pain. Pam emerged much later, wearing a hospital gown that matched mine, the nurse helping her walk slowly back to her own bed. I felt the loss immediately when she didn't come back to mine.

"Could you open the curtain please," asked Pam softly. It was so good to see her again, though her curly hair was damp against the pillow, her face still paler than I would have liked.

"I'll let you two lovebirds rest," said the nurse. "Breakfast should be here soon."

"Hey," we said at the same time, when we were alone. We both smiled through our individual pain. And again, in unison: "How are you feeling?"

"Don't make me jinx you," said Pam.

"It wouldn't matter. I hereby defy the laws of jinx, at least for today. And I'm fine. Sore and a bit out of it, but fine. You?"

"If the world would stop spinning, that would be great, and maybe get my head out of this vice…other than that, I'm okay. Crazy night, eh?"

I could see the pain in her eyes, and it wasn't about her pounding head.

"Don't blame yourself for this," I told her. "If you meant what you said last night, it was all worth it." _Okay, Halpert, just throw it all out on the table why don't you._

"What did I say?" she looked confused, and maybe a little embarrassed, since a splash of pink flooded her cheeks.

"You said you didn't want to marry Roy anymore."

"And that was when we were in the limo?" she hedged, flushing even more.

"Yep."

"When we were—"

"Yep."

"Oh, God," she murmured, hand coming up to her eyes. "I'm so embarrassed."

"Don't be. I didn't mind, I assure you."

She peaked at me through her fingers. "I don't think I minded either."

I smiled, remembering how aggressive she'd been.

"Do you think you meant what you said about Roy?" I was pushing now, but I wanted this out in the open. I had to know, one way or the other.

She didn't hesitate now. "I meant it. And after what I see he did to you, I mean it even more."

"Because he kicked my ass?" I said grimly.  
"Not just that." Her eyes widened, and she looked suddenly sheepish. Her discomfort was adorable. "I mean, because I don't love him anymore."

Well, that was pretty straight forward. My heart was pounding now as we locked eyes. "Do you love _me_?" I asked, feeling very brave now, though it would have been much more impressive if my voice hadn't cracked a little.

Her eyes were filling with tears. "Yes," she whispered.

I had to hold her now, and I began moving stiffly to get out of bed, embarrassed myself that it was so slow and difficult just to sit up. She laughed and got up.

"Stay there. I'll come to you." She pulled her IV bag along with her.

"Other side," I warned. "Cracked ribs."

Her eyes flew to mine. "He did that? I just thought it was your eye." Her face grew gratifyingly livid, and I didn't point out they wouldn't have kept me overnight in the hospital for a black eye. "I'm gonna kill that bastard!" She said, so cute when she was defending my honor.

"Shh, forget about it. Now come here."

She came around the bed, back to where she had slept beside me. I reached up to her cool cheek, moved a wet curl behind her ear. It didn't matter that her eyes were a little bloodshot, her face devoid of even her usual light makeup. She was amazingly beautiful to me, and my heart squeezed with love for this incredible woman.

She bent and touched my lips with hers, her mouth minty from hospital toothpaste. I was conscious that I hadn't brushed my teeth or taken a shower yet, but the way she was kissing me, she didn't seem to care. Without warning, she suddenly pulled away, and with a muttered "Sorry!" she covered her mouth with one hand, pulled her IV cart with the other, and headed quickly to the bathroom.

I tried not to take it personally.

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading. One more chapter to go! See you back here soon. As always, reviews are what drive me, so I would love your feedback. PS: I'm not in the medical or law enforcement fields, so please forgive anything I might have gotten wrong.**


	4. Pam and Jim

**A/N: I got a little carried away, so instead of one more chapter, I think I'll need 2 more. Hope you don't mind. This chapter has some adult language, but given Jim's pain, I hope you'll be understanding of the poor guy. **

**Chapter 4**

**Part I: Pam**

I watched Jim go pale when Penny pulled up in front of the hospital exit in her cute little yellow VW Bug. We'd decided not to bother Jim's roommate at work, since Penny had offered to drive us both. I think Jim was seriously regretting his decision now.

"You gotta be kidding me," I heard him say under his breath.

I was the first out of the wheelchair, and I thanked the orderly who had wheeled me out of the hospital. Jim got up from his a bit more gingerly, leaning on the nurse aide who'd pushed his chair.

"I could call a cab," I said.

"No, no. That's okay," he said tightly, then bravely waved at Penny, who was smiling in the driver's seat. I stepped up and opened the passenger side door for him. The next few minutes was an exercise in my own self-restraint (to keep from laughing) and Jim's (to keep from crying), as he slowly folded himself like a pretzel to fit his tall frame into her tiny car. He alternately swore and grunted in pain as he first struggled to lower himself down into the seat, then get his long legs inside, one at a time, while I stood by, helping as best I could.

When he was finally sitting down, his knees were touching the dash, and sweat had gathered on his forehead. He was breathing heavily. I reached across him to buckle his seatbelt, pausing to kiss his right cheek.

"You okay?" I whispered. He grinned sheepishly, but his eyes lit up at my kiss. I felt myself blushing. It was still so surreal, being free to kiss him when I wanted.

"Yeah. I'll live." Then he glanced over at Penny and announced: "Ladies, I'd like to make a blanket apology in advance for all the cussing and blaspheming I'm about to do."

"Accepted," we replied in mock seriousness.

"You just let 'er rip, Halpert," I said, then couldn't resist kissing his stubbled cheek once more.

I went around to the other side of the car, squeezing in behind Penny's seat to sit in the back. Not thinking, Penny accelerated her car at her usual zippy speed, while Jim reached for the dash to save himself as she took a speedbump way too fast.

"Please-go slow! Go slow!" he said, tensing in obvious dread at what his ribs were about to endure.

"That's what she said!" I called from the back, and he let out a bark of laughter and groaned at the same time as Penny hit a dip at the parking lot exit.

"Jesus…fuck…shit."

And so it went, all the way to the Diamond Room parking lot to pick up Jim's car, Penny and I laughing till our own sides hurt at the vile combination of words coming from Jim's mouth when she couldn't avoid a pothole or a sudden stop in traffic. Of course, we also felt horribly guilty, but that eased somewhat when Jim would laugh/yelp most of the time too, between long spates of potty mouth.

Jim's car was just where he'd left it—was it just last night?—and he'd wondered how his keys had been with his personal effects at the hospital. He could have sworn he'd left them in the car.

"One of the camera guys had them," Penny explained. "He said he'd locked your car for you too."  
"Must have been Brian," said Jim. "I definitely owe him a beer."

It took a few more minutes to untangle Jim from Penny's Bug (or deathtrap, as Jim called it later), and it was a little easier to get him into his own vehicle, though I insisted I drive, given the pain killers still in his system and the fact that he'd sweated through his t-shirt just as a passenger. We called thank you's to Penny, who sped off, leaving me to help Jim into the passenger's seat of his own car. I glanced around the parking lot, nearly empty in the middle of the day, and saw Roy's truck was still there.

Roy.

Shit.

I still had to talk to him, and I'd decided that I would give things a few days to cool down. I didn't think he would really hurt me, but from what I remembered of last night, I was horribly afraid for Jim. He wouldn't have been able to beat up Roy on his best day, let alone with cracked ribs and a concussion. Roy was just a big guy, and while Jim was tall, he wasn't that muscular—at least, not based on what I had seen so far. I blushed.

"You okay?" Jim was asking, because I was sitting in the driver's seat and hadn't made any move to start the car. He'd followed my gaze to Roy's truck.

"Yeah. I don't really want to go home, especially when Roy gets out of jail."

"Are you afraid of him?"

"No. I don't believe he would hurt me, not sober anyway."

Jim frowned. Not exactly reassuring to him, I imagine. "You might not remember how he spoke to you last night. I stood up to him because he threatened you."

"What?"

"Yeah. And if you are breaking up with him, he might not be sober for a long time. I know I wouldn't be, in his shoes."

Jim's face was very serious, his eyes grim with worry. "I want you to stay with me, Pam, or maybe with your parents or a friend, at least for awhile." Then his lips quirked, distracting me with a joke so he wouldn't scare me. "But you know…I need someone to take care of me for a few days, and I'm pretty sure Mark is not gonna want to play nursemaid to his roommate. Besides, he can't afford to take off work. This way, I can keep my good eye on you and not go out of my mind with worry. So, you'd actually be helping my healing process."

I hesitated, feeling my pulse race at the very idea of sleeping with Jim, and I don't mean in the middle of a hospital room sleeping. Were we ready for that? As if reading my thoughts, he rushed to reassure me.

"It doesn't have to be like we're—I mean, I'll sleep on the couch, and you can have my bed. I mean, if that's how you want it. I'm certainly not opposed to whatever uh, sleeping arrangements you want." His face was delightfully rosy, clashing spectacularly with his black eye.

I grinned, then decided to mess with him a little bit. "Ok. But I'm not going to wear one of those sexy nurse outfits, so don't even ask. And I draw the line at sponge baths."

My teasing backfired, however, as his eyes grew smoky, and he took my hand across the console, brought my palm to his lips. "You sure about that, Beesly?" His tongue barely touched the sensitive skin there as he closed his eyes a moment, as if savoring the taste, then looked back up at me.

I couldn't help my stomach turning somersaults. Our past flirtation had never been this overtly sexual, and seeing Jim look at me that way was heady stuff. He wanted me, and desire slammed low into my lady parts. I felt breathless and lightheaded, like I was suddenly drunk again.

"Okay, then," he said, kissing my knuckles before releasing my hand so I could drive. "It's settled." But his voice was a little hoarse with his own arousal, and it took me a moment for my brain to kick in again.

"Well, uh, I guess that means I need to swing by my place and pick up some things."

"Drive on, chauffeur," he directed, and with shaking hands, I did.

I left Jim in the car while I ran inside, packed an overnight bag with comfy clothes and necessities. I planned to take off the rest of the week from work, and Michael could just deal. I would insist Jim stay home to try to recover, and I would be there to see that he took it easy. He wasn't the only one allowed to be worried.

On my way through my kitchen, I stopped and tore a piece of paper from a notebook. I grabbed a pen and wrote a simple note for Roy. I knew we would need to talk in person soon, to officially end things and to decide what we would do about the home we'd shared for the past three years. In the meantime, I wrote:

_I'm sorry._

_Pam_

I looked down at the ring on my left hand, thought of how much hope I'd had for us, for the life we would build together, for the children we would have someday. I was through deluding myself now, through lying to him, too. I cried as I removed my engagement ring and laid it on top of the note. This was a crappy way to do this, I knew, and it only compounded my guilt, but after he had beaten up Jim, I was having my doubts about how well he would control himself with me if I handed him the ring in person. Does that sound like an excuse? Maybe it was, so call me a coward.

"You okay?" Jim asked, as I tossed my bag in the backseat and joined him in the front. He must have noticed my eyes were red from crying. I gave him a watery smile.

"Yes. This is hard, but I know it's gonna be worth it."

"I think so too," he agreed, smiling back. And so I started the car, heading for the police station.

**Part II: Jim**

It was bad luck that we came just as Roy was sitting at a policeman's desk, soberly giving his statement from last night. There was no sign of a lawyer. The cop that had spoken to me earlier was asking Roy questions, patiently typing the answers into his computer.

"Hi," I said to the female officer at the front desk, "I need to talk to Officer Decker please."

I guess my voice carried more than I had intended, for Roy's head snapped up and he looked our way. Pam moved closer to me as I instinctively stepped in front of her.

"I'm gonna kill you, Halpert!"

Was the bastard still drunk?

Decker immediately went around his desk to push Roy back in his chair. "Sit down, Mr. Anderson. And yelling threats in a police station is not exactly the brightest idea." He nodded to another officer. "Take Mr. Anderson back to lockup so he can cool down." Roy wasn't in the mood to be cool, and he yelled again as he was escorted roughly from the busy room.

"Pam! For God's sake, don't leave me for that fuckin' douchebag!"

"Sorry about that, ma'am," said Officer Decker, coming to meet us at Reception.

"It's okay," said Pam shakily, holding my hand in a vicelike grip. "I don't blame him for being mad."

"I've come to let you know I won't be pressing charges against Roy," I said quickly, taking Pam's hand in solidarity.

"You sure? I mean, I have a station full of witnesses who just heard him threaten you."

"I'm sure."

"Okay. I'll release him today. You might want to consider a restraining order, in which case you'd need to file down at the courthouse."

"Hopefully that won't be necessary," I said, silently praying I was right.

One more stop at a drive-thru pharmacy for my pain meds, and we finally arrived at my house. It seemed like years since I'd left in the middle of the night to go rescue Pam at the Diamond Room. She helped me out of the car and into my living room, where I carefully lowered myself onto the couch. It felt good to stretch out. I heard the sink running in the kitchen, then Pam came with a glass of water and a pill for me to take. I was already enjoying this nursing thing. She sat by me on the floor, her hand gently brushing back my hair. She kissed me softly on the lips, and I smiled into her eyes.

"I could get used to this," I said.

"Me too. You should get some rest though. I imagine you're feeling pretty sore."

"Yeah." But as tired and achy as I was, part of me wanted to stay awake and savor this—her touches, her kisses, her just being in my house. The pill did its magic, however, and it wasn't long before I was out.

I awoke to the heavenly smell of garlic and Italian spices, my stomach rumbling in reply. I was warm and cozy beneath the blanket Pam had tossed over me. I stretched a little, wincing at the pain, before slowly sitting up. On the bright, my head no longer hurt as much.

"Something smells amazing," I called to the kitchen, running my hands through my messier than usual hair.

"Well, hello, sleepyhead," said Pam, changed now from the clothes she'd worn since yesterday, her hair in a cute ponytail that made her look about twelve. She was fresh-faced and pretty and flushed from the warm kitchen.

"You were dead to the world, so I ran to the store for supplies. No way can I live on frozen pizza, Hot Pockets and beer."

"You didn't find the Ramen noodles?"

She rolled her eyes. "You _have _heard there's a fruit and vegetable group?"

"Food has groups now? Hey, sometimes we buy bananas, and maybe orange juice…"

She wasn't impressed. "Well, that's a start. I made a salad to go with my famous lasagna, so prepare your system for the onslaught of vegetable matter."

"I think I can adapt…Hey, come here," I said, holding out my hand. She took it and joined me on the couch, leaning her head on my shoulder. Was I dreaming all this?

"It was sweet of you to cook. You didn't have to do that." I laced my fingers with hers.

She shrugged. "I did, actually. Unlike some people, I stopped eating like a teenager when I turned twenty. Besides, you need to eat healthy to heal faster. I used whole wheat pasta and low-fat everything else. I even snuck some additional veggies in the sauce. Trust me, you won't even know the difference."

"As long as there's no tofu in there, I'm game."

I tried to ignore her mischievous smirk.

"Feeling any better?" she asked. "You slept for almost three hours. I had time to change your sheets, do some laundry, and start dinner."

"Wow, and yes I am a bit better, thanks. I honestly didn't expect you to become my maid."

"I didn't have anything else to do. Besides, it was fun snooping around." She sounded like she was kidding, but I somehow didn't put it past her. I kissed her forehead, and she looked up at me, her eyes sparkling. I had just leaned down to kiss her mouth when we heard my roommate Mark open the front door.

"Hi honey, I'm home! Did you get takeout?"

He stopped short when he saw Pam and me on the couch.

"Hon_ies_?" he amended. "Oh hey, Pam." No surprise he remembered her. He'd met Pam at my barbecue awhile back, and also, I talk about her all the time.

"Hi," she said, just as embarrassed as I was. He'd almost caught us making out on the couch. Mark came into the living room and got a good look at me.

"Jesus, Halpert, what the hell happened to you?"

"My ex-boyfriend beat him up," answered Pam for me. I frowned.

"Gee, thanks, Pam. There went my story of how I fought off four muggers to save you."

"Oh, sorry." She looked obediently back at Mark. "Actually, Jim fought off _ten_ muggers to save me. It was incredible, like a _Die Hard_ movie or something. All I could do was stand by and scream in terror, as one-by-one, Jim—"

I squeezed her hand in warning. "Too much?" she said, her eyes sparkling. I shook my head in mock censure.

"_Ten_ muggers? Really? Four muggers was already pushing it. Anyway, Mark, I hope you don't mind Pam staying here a few days. I got a couple of cracked ribs and she offered to take care of me."

Mark's eyebrows disappeared beneath his baseball cap. I could see his mind working, could see the questions he was just dying to ask. "Uh, sure. No problem."

"In return for letting me stay," Pam said, "I will cook and clean for you both."

"That glorious smell was created by your own two hands? Damn, Jim, you hit the mother lode."

And didn't I know it.

"Speaking of dinner," Pam said, getting up. "I should check on the garlic bread. Everything should be ready in about ten minutes."

"Cool," said Mark. "You just cook your little heart out."

My roommate gave me a meaningful look, and I shrugged proudly. He made an obscene gesture with his hands and pointed toward the kitchen. I glared at him and shook my head. It wasn't like that. Not yet, at least. Then, I got two thumbs up-it was so nice to get his blessing, I thought dryly.

Dinner was fabulous, and we hungry bachelors ate it up like we'd just been rescued from the desert. She'd even bought ice cream for dessert and the three of us enjoyed a bowl with her homemade brownies at the seldom used kitchen table. She must have thrown out the old junk mail and newspapers that used to be piled on top. And where did the placemats come from?

"Excellent grub, Pam," said Mark, licking his spoon. He remembered his company manners and took his dishes to the sink. "Thanks. Now, I gotta change. I was supposed to be at Stephanie's twenty minutes ago. You two kids have fun."

He got up and left us, and we heard him trot up the stairs. I watched as Pam began clearing the table and running water for the dishes.

"Hey, thanks," I told her. "It really was delicious. And this sounds like a bad excuse: I'd help you do the dishes, but I don't think I could stand up that long."

She laughed. "That's okay. I don't mind at all. This is one of the reasons I'm staying here, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. Right."

"Besides, I always make a bigger mess than necessary when I cook. Roy hates it when I—" She paused, her hands going still in the dishwater. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. You were with him a long time."

"Too long," she admitted, to my surprise. She turned to look at me with a sheepish smile. "Anyway, feel up to watching a movie or something after I finish cleaning up?"

"Sure. But first, I would kill for a hot shower and shave, and a change of clothes." I never had made it to the shower in the hospital that morning, and I felt like a bum. Also, she was too nice to say anything, but I bet I was starting to smell pretty rank.

"Okay. I bet the shower will feel great. You need any uh, help?"

She was facing the sink, but I could tell she was feeling a little shy for asking. I have to say, that was a very tempting offer, one I found I couldn't resist.

"Actually, if it isn't too much trouble, I might have problems getting this t-shirt off. I think I'm gonna have to wear something that buttons up for a few days."

She left the dishes to soak and dried her hands on a dishtowel.

"Sure," she said brightly. "Ready when you are."

I stood slowly, and she was at my side. It was a little easier to get around, but I fully took advantage of having her under my arm, just for the pleasure of it. Going up the stairs was on the painful side, and we passed Mark on the way up, so it was a tight squeeze.

"See ya!" he called. "And Halpert, don't forget to leave a sock on the door, if you know what I mean."

"Good-bye, Mark," I said through tight lips, but Pam just laughed.

"Guys still do that, eh?"

"I don't bring girls here for that," I said truthfully. "He's just yankin' my chain, trying to embarrass me."

"Seems to be working."

"Yeah, well…" What could I say; she was right, but I didn't want her to think I brought just anyone home.

"It's okay, Jim. You don't have to hide your player ways from me. I know what I'm getting into." I was glad to hear her teasing tone.

I snorted. "Yeah, right." Katie, my last girlfriend, if you could really call her that, was grossed out about coming to a bachelor pad, and never felt comfortable with having my roommate around. We'd usually go to her place. And why was I thinking about that now?

Pam steared me to the bathroom and we stood awkwardly a moment, before she looked down and put her hands on the hem of my t-shirt. She looked up at me with a frown. "You're too tall. Maybe you should sit down."

I grinned and sat on the closed toilet seat. "Can you raise your arms?"

I tried, but like this morning with the nurse's help, I could just raise my right arm up a little without much pain. "Okay, bend your right elbow and I'll slip it over."

I watched with a pleasure that outweighed the pain as she manipulated my arms and got me naked from the waist up. It probably would have been less painful if I hadn't tensed up from the sensual touch of her small, warm hands on my skin. When she saw my bruised side, she gasped.

"Oh my God."

They'd taken off the bandage in the hospital, saying I'd breathe better without it, but I had to admit, it looked pretty nasty—far worse than my eye, for sure.

"It looks worse than it feels," I said, probably not too convincingly. It was my turn to gasp when she leaned over and pressed her lips to my side, her soft hair tickling my stomach.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her hot breath making me shiver, then subsequently making me catch my breath in pain. It was a deliciously vicious cycle. She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. Back to this again.

"Hey. None of this was your fault. Roy overreacted. I'll be better in no time, don't worry." I lifted my hand to wipe at her tears with my thumbs.

She leaned into me, her hands on my bare shoulders, and then she was kissing me passionately. Her fingers roamed my chest, playing in the hair there. At the same time, her tongue in my mouth was driving me insane. I held her face in my hands and tilted my head to go deeper. Breathing became an issue because of my ribs, and I drew back from her reluctantly. Anymore of this and my shower would have to be on the cold side.

"As much as I'd like this to go on," I said, "the spirit is willing, honey, but I'm afraid the body is down for the count."

"You sure you don't want me to wash your back? Or maybe…your front?" Her smile could only be described as seductive. Oh yes, I was liking this Pam, very very much.

I laughed, my heart still racing. "Trying to finish me off?"

"Just doing my job, Mr. Halpert," said my naughty nurse.

I kissed her lightly, my hands on her small waist. "I'm going to make you pay for all this torture one day soon."

"Promise?"

I nodded. "Definitely. Now, scoot, before one of us hurts himself."

She gave an exaggerated sigh, then moved my hands and stepped back. I felt immediately bereft. "I'll be right outside. Call if you need me."

When she shut the bathroom door behind her, I groaned in frustration. Of course, I heard her chuckle on the other side. Yeah, it would sure be fun when I finally got my revenge.

**A/N: One more chapter to go (I mean it this time). Thanks for reading this one. Please let me know what you think.**


	5. Conclusion

**A/N: Welcome to the last chapter of this fic! It is definitely rated M, so keep that in mind. Thanks for those who have read and reviewed. To the guest reviewer regarding my Mentalist fics, although I am very flattered, I don't have any plans for a Mentalist fic as of now, much as I love and miss that fandom. You never know though, so stay tuned.**

**Chapter 5**

**Part I: Pam**

I realized I'd forgotten my nightshirt, so I opened Jim's closet and chose one of his t-shirts, the longest one I could find. They were all pretty long, and this one stopped just above my knees. I didn't think he would care, especially when I put it on and lay on top of his striped comforter on his full-size bed. I turned on the TV and flipped mindlessly to an action flick he'd probably seen a million times, turned off the overhead light and left on his dim bedside lamp. I settled back on his pillows to wait, my heart beating at a hummingbird's pace.

When the shower turned off in the bathroom, I tensed even more, knowing he wouldn't be expecting me to have been so bold. Hell, _I_ hadn't expected it. Several nervous minutes later, and Jim came into the bedroom, his hair slicked back, a towel wrapped low around his slim hips. Water still dripped down his chest, and I watched a droplet leave a trail down his flat stomach and disappear beneath the towel. He stopped short when he saw me, his eyes widening, then darkening in appreciation as he took in my bare legs and recognized his own Sixers shirt.

"Hey," I said, grateful my voice wasn't as shaky as I felt. "I thought you might want to watch TV up here. I'm sure your bed is more comfortable than the couch."

He nodded, then smirked. "Nice shirt."

I knew I was blushing furiously. "I forgot my PJ's. Hope you don't mind."  
"Not at all. Definitely looks better on you."

I nodded toward his towel. "Thanks. I like your outfit too."

We stared at each other a few minutes, the room heavy with sexual tension.

Finally, he cleared his throat, raked his hair back with agitated fingers. "I'll uh, get dressed in the bathroom."

"Okay," I said, smiling, though I certainly wouldn't have minded watching _that_ show. Instead, I admired his slim, well-formed back as he went to his top drawer for boxers, then rifled through his second, pulling out a pair of heather gray sweats. From his closet he fetched a well-worn, green flannel shirt that buttoned up the front. I loved the awkward, jerky way he moved, knowing that I was causing his nervousness. The power I felt made me even bolder.

"Will you need any help with that?"

He grinned knowingly. "Don't think I'd actually get my clothes _on_ that way, Beesly, but thanks."

I shrugged. "Well, you know where I'll be if you want me."

He shot me a wistful look and took his clothes with him to the bathroom. I heard a few painful grunts as he struggled to get dressed, but he didn't call for me. Just as well, I supposed.

Dressed, he came back into the bedroom, shut the door, and hesitantly joined me on the bed. It still hurt him to adjust his sore body once he sat down, but he relaxed against the headboard-less wall behind the bed, and I helped him put his pillows behind him. I drew the brown throw blanket from the foot of the bed up over both of us, and moved closer to him. He put his arm around my shoulders and I felt such complete happiness that tears filled my eyes.

"This is nice," he said, echoing my thoughts, and I stretched up to kiss his cheek in agreement. He smelled of manly soap, clean shampoo, and Jim. He nodded toward the TV. "Indiana Jones. Good choice."

I settled back down against him, my head resting on his chest. His hand idly caressed my shoulder, and I bent one knee, resting it on his long thigh.

"You feeling okay?" I asked. "Would you like me to get you another pain pill?"

"Nah. I'll tough it out. Those things just make me feel weird and sleepy. I took a couple ibuprofen in the bathroom. I'll be fine."

"Hmmm," I hummed, and tried to focus as Harrison Ford fought a big Nazi. The last thing I remember before sleep took me was Jim's kiss on the top of my head.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I woke in the night, feeling Jim's body spooned against my back, his uneven breath near my ear. The light was off now, the TV silent. Beneath the blanket, my borrowed tee had bunched up at my waist, and Jim's palm was hot on my bare midriff. He knew the instant I awakened, and I moved my hand over his, leading him to cup my braless breast. I shuddered as his thumb swiped over my nipple, feeling it instantly harden at the same time he took my earlobe into his mouth, suckling gently.

I shivered and moaned softly, and I could feel his insistent hardness against my bottom. He tended to each breast with his hand and fingers, working me up to a frenzy, making him groan in response as I wriggled against him. His hand slid lower, hesitating at the waistband of my panties. I directed him again with my own hand, and his long fingers slipped past the cotton barrier. I was almost embarrassingly wet, and I squeezed my eyes tight in anticipation as he traced the trimmed line of hair that led to my sex. He parted my folds to find the hard bud at the apex, as pleasure shot through my entire body. Gently, he circled there, our breathing very loud in the quiet room.

"Oh God…Jim…"

My obvious approval spurred him on, and soon he'd slipped one, then two fingers inside me, massaging at the same time with his thumb. It didn't take long for me to come apart, my thighs trembling violently, my body convulsing against him. He awkwardly found my mouth with his to silence my cries, and I vaguely remembered that Mark might be back home by now.

I held Jim's hand against me to try to still his movements; my body so sensitive now I couldn't take it anymore. After a few moments, he moved his hand from my panties and I turned to face him. We kissed passionately, my body still humming with residual sensual energy.

As I came back down, I felt that his desire had not waned, and I wanted desperately to give him the same pleasure he'd given to me. My hand found him, and I caressed him through the soft fabric of his sweatpants, long and hard and ready. He gasped into my mouth.

"Pam…I don't think I can—"

"Shhh…just let me touch you. We don't have to do anything else tonight. Stop me if it's too painful."

He chuckled hoarsely. "I'll try."

So my hand ventured inside his pants, grasped him, stroked him, enjoying the sounds he made in his throat that made me hot all over again. Becoming more daring, I threw off the blanket, and, lowering his sweatpants, I leaned over and took him into my mouth.

"Oh God…Pam…"

I'd always been indifferent to this act, happy to please, but never really into it. With Jim, his reaction to everything I did was infinitely exciting to me. His hand came down to rest on my head—not to guide me, but to caress my hair, to show how much he enjoyed what I was doing. Using my hands and my tongue, I soon felt him hover at the edge, impossibly hard, and then, with one particular swipe of my tongue, he went over—and all hell broke loose.

The spasm from his climax must have pulled at his ribs, for suddenly he was yelling in pain, cursing at the top of his lungs. I sat back, wiping at my mouth, helpless as he suffered. Then someone was pounding on the door.

Mark.

"Jim! You okay in there?"

I froze. Should I answer? Could Jim? He knocked again, more insistently. "Jim!"

"He's fine," I finally said, getting off the bed and going to stand near the door. "His ribs are just really hurting."

"Yeah, right. Well, whatever kinky shit you guys are doing, could you please keep it down? Some of us have to go to work tomorrow."

"Sorry," I said, then went back to Jim to see if I could help. By then, the pain seemed to have subsided, and he lay on his back, breathing raggedly.

"Are you all right? I'm so sorry," I whispered wretchedly.

Then, to my surprise, his chest began to shake in laughter. "Jesus, that was…I have no words."

I stood by him near his side of the bed, took his hand. "That didn't go at all as I intended. Can a person die of mortification?"

He squeezed my hand. "If you're worried about Mark, you can't imagine the stuff I've heard coming from _his_ room, not to mention the freak show I've accidentally seen on the living room couch. Trust me, he has no room to talk."

That really didn't help me much. "Oh God. I don't think I'll ever be able to face him again. Are you still in pain?"

"Just my ego. That had nothing to do with you. You did everything right, I promise. It was incredible. I wasn't expecting you to—I mean, it was even better than one of my many dreams about you, something that I never even dared to hope would happen between us."

"Me neither," I said, squeezing his hand. "Well…I think it might be a good idea if I went and slept on the couch the rest of the night. It's probably much better for your health if we avoid any further…temptation."

He was quiet a moment, and I couldn't see his face in the darkness. Was he surprised? Hurt? Angry?

"Don't be ridiculous, Beesly. Get back here. Trust me, as much as I want to pick up where we left off, no way my ribs will cooperate now."

I'm glad he couldn't see me blushing. "Okay. If you're sure…" He brought my hand to his mouth, and I shivered as my knuckles met his full lips.

"One-thousand percent sure."

That's all I needed to hear.

**PART II: Jim**

Anyone who ever tells you pleasure and pain are awesome together, never had the best blow job of their lives while recovering from cracked ribs. When I'd finally calmed down, I got up and took off all my clothes but my boxers, and climbed carefully between the clean sheets to join Pam. She immediately snuggled up to me before asking: "Is this all right?"

I'm not gonna lie—I was immediately hard again from her smell, her proximity, and the memory of our recent activities, but I wasn't going to miss out on the wonder of having Pam Beesly in my bed.

"It's more than all right," I told her. "I will do my very best to control myself."

"Me too." And I heard the smile in her voice as she turned her head to kiss my chest, her lips tantalizingly close to my right nipple. I gritted my teeth.

It was gonna be a long freakin' night.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was actually a long freakin' _weekend_.

When I talked to Toby about my needing the rest of the week off, he hinted around that everyone at the office had already learned what had happened in the Diamond Room parking lot. Roy's big mouth, no doubt, not to mention the black eye I'd given him before he'd nearly killed me. He must have felt the need to brag that the other guy got it a hundred times worse. I hated the thought of what people might be saying about Pam, though.

Since the secret was out, I handed Pam the phone, and she explained to Toby how I needed someone to take care of me while I recovered. Toby. I saw how he looked at Pam when others weren't paying attention. I could totally relate, poor bastard. Michael's innuendo laden call made me glad for the few days' reprieve.

Anyway, by the end of the weekend I was in considerably less pain but considerably more sexually frustrated. Pam refused to touch me below the waist, and valiantly fought off my attempts at touching her. She didn't want to owe me, she said, like I'd be keeping score. Still, it was incredibly nice to go to sleep with her in my arms, and awaken the same way. Then there was eating across from each other at every meal, watching TV on the couch together, a bowl of popcorn between us. Long whispered talks in bed about the future, the past, our families, our favorite things that we didn't already know about each other. Actually, we were amused to realize there wasn't much about our lives we didn't already know. Three years of friendship had built a hell of a foundation, had opened the door for something infinitely deeper and more meaningful to build on.

Sunday evening rolled around and I was getting very restless. Mark was at his girlfriend's and I found I could no longer keep my hands off Pam. We lay cuddled on the couch, the TV on to some crime drama Pam was into, but I couldn't focus on the show. I was much more interested in other things.

I lazily stroked her arm, deeply inhaled the scent of her hair, feeling my body come to life as I nuzzled that soft place between her neck and her collarbone. I kissed my way to her jaw, and at first she hummed in absent pleasure, her attention still mainly on the TV. I stepped up my game, encircling her waist and pulling her incredible yoga pant-clad ass against my crotch. That woke her up.

"Jim," she said breathlessly, her hand resting on my arms. "This probably isn't a good idea."

"On the contrary, I think it's an awesomely good idea." I blatantly rubbed against her.

She laughed, then turned in my arms to kiss me. With only a minor twinge of my ribs, I rolled her onto her back, covering her whole body with mine for the very first time. That sensation was enough to make a grown man cry, and I admit I came close to it. Our kisses deepened, and I could tell she was enjoying how good it felt to have our bodies mashed together.

Spurred by her soft moans, I pushed up her top and feasted on her breasts, pulling aside her bra to take her hard nipples in my mouth, to tease her with my fingers. Her hands were wild in my hair, her hips straining up to meet mine. I felt dizzy and mindlessly turned on, ignoring the faint pull of my sore ribs.

"God Pam…I want you so bad." I didn't care if that sounded like a porn video, it was the absolute truth.

"Then take me," she said, as I stared down into her passion glazed eyes. She smiled at me then, her hand reaching up to brush my hair across my forehead.

"Let's go to bed," I said, thinking of our mutual comfort, but also remembering what I know Mark had done on this couch. I grabbed her hand and led her to the stairs, stopping to kiss her, my hands cupping her perfect butt, which had been a major source of distraction all day. (I'm sure yoga pants were specifically designed to drive men crazy.)

Once in my room with the door shut, the clothes came off in record time, despite my recent incapacity. Thankfully, the pain of not having her had superseded the pain in my side. Naked, we found our way to the bed, and once again I was luxuriating in the feel of her body beneath mine. She was so small compared to me, and call me sexist, but it made me feel tender and protective of her, not to mention incredibly turned on. I couldn't keep my hands still, wanting to caress her everywhere at once. Her nails scraped along my back, making me shiver as I suckled her breasts, reaching down to touch between her legs at the same time.

She was already ready for me, but I didn't want to be a total pig and take her without keying her up a little more. She seemed to like what I was doing, but I amped things up, kissing my way down to replace my hands with my mouth. She definitely enjoyed that. The sounds she made, her taste, her scent—all combined to excite me more than I could ever remember being, and it took everything in me to keep at it until she came—hopefully before me.

Her thighs began to shake and I knew she was close. I added my fingers again and she cried out my name and God's name and a few more unintelligible words I could only guess at. I found I couldn't wait anymore, and I reached over to my bedside table drawer.

"I'm on the pill," she said, still panting.

Well, okay then. Even better. She'd told me she had only ever been with Roy, and I had used condoms with every woman I'd ever been with. Another first for me.

In the dim light of evening that filtered through the blinds, I had the presence of mind to stop and take in the moment. Our eyes met, and leaned down to kiss her, feeling her heart pounding against mine beneath her full, soft breasts.

"I love you," I said.

"I love you."

Then, with one more perfect kiss, I reached beneath her hips to lift her, joining my body with hers. I wish I could adequately describe how amazing it feels to make love to someone you really and truly love, how almost sacred it felt to become a part of this woman, no barriers between us. As I moved within her body, I kept thinking how this was what I was made for—_she_ was who I was made for, and no one before had ever felt so right, so perfectly harmonized with me. I used to sneak my older sister's romance novels and read just the naughty parts. I'd scoffed as the female authors had described how the characters had felt that their souls had joined, or their hearts had become one, or some such cheesiness. But with Pam, it was all real, all true. I don't care how cheesy it sounds.

Soon, however, my romantic notions melted into the purely sensual, as my body took over and my mind went blank. Pam's legs wrapped around my waist, and she took me deeper, making us both gasp every time I pulled out and plunged in. I knew I could lose it anytime, but I held out until I felt her begin to spasm around me, squeezing me as she reached her peak, taking me with her on a last, frenzied ride. I yelled out, but this time, it was definitely not in pain. I collapsed on top of her, covered with sweat that mingled with hers, our breathing still shallow and fast. My heart pounded in my ears and in every pulse point at once.

I knew I must be squishing her, but my body felt boneless, and when I forced myself to move out of her, she held me there.

"Don't move," she whispered, her arms wrapping around me, her feet holding me inside. "I don't want you to leave me, not ever."

I smiled, looking deep into her eyes, understanding exactly how she felt.

"I'm not going anywhere," I said, and kissed her slowly. I couldn't believe it when I felt myself starting to harden again within her, and when she moved her hips, I wanted her again. Her eyes flew open and she grinned.

"Way to go Halpert," she said, impressed.

I smiled back and took her by surprise, rolling over to my back, taking her with me, our bodies still joined. She sat up, her knees resting on the bed on either side of my hips. I laced my fingers with hers, and she leaned forward to kiss me, her curly hair curtaining my face, her tongue tangling with mine.

Then, she began to move, sliding forward and back as I filled her once more. We took our time this time, savoring, so in tune with each other that even our breaths were in sync. This time, I let her do most of the work as I lay there, enjoying the impassioned expression on her face, the heavy sway of her breasts, the way she leaned her head back and surrendered to the sensuality of the moment.

"Faster," she said suddenly, her eyes meeting mine.

I moved my hands to her hips to oblige, began thrusting up into her body as she sat down on mine. It was unbelievably hot, the give and take, the physical and spiritual connection. Our rhythm became faster, but still smooth and almost unbearably tight. I was deep inside of her when we finally came. I heard my own cries as from a distance; Pam's echoed mine soon after.

We lay there, spent. No way did I have a repeat performance of _that_ still in me. At least not after a very long nap.

According to the bedside clock, we must have slept for about an hour. I heard Pam get up and go into the bathroom, then rejoin me in bed a few minutes later. She kissed me sweetly on the cheek before snuggling her head into my chest.

Neither of us seemed to have any words for what had transpired between us. All I could think of was how worth it, it all had been. The three years of loving her from afar. The jealousy and pain I felt every time I saw her with Roy. The waiting for her to admit our kiss on Casino Night had meant something to her, had meant that she loved me too. Nearly being killed by Roy. All of it—so totally worth it for the few days we had spent together in my house, for the times she told me she loved me. For the days and years to come, when I would eventually marry this girl and have children with her. It was all worth it because _Pam _was worth it.

"Thank you," she whispered, and I wondered if I had spoken my thoughts aloud, or maybe we really could read each other's minds.

"You're welcome," I replied automatically.

She chuckled softly. "Don't you want to know for what?"

I shrugged. "I figured it was for the mind-blowing sex, and I was happy to take full credit for that."

"Oh really?" she said dryly. "I think I should share at least _half _the credit, don't you think?"

I sighed dramatically. "Oh, all right. I guess, but I'm only giving you that so I can insure that it will happen again. Soon. And often."

"Very generous of you."

"Thank you."  
"You're welcome. Now…would you really like to know what I was thanking you for?"

It was very dark now in the room, so I couldn't see her expression when she sat up and I could only feel that she was looking at me. We were both serious now.

"Yes," I said.

"Thank you for-for not giving up on me," she said, her voice hitching a little with emotion. "You were totally right about me. I'd been lying to myself, because I was afraid of change, afraid of hurting Roy, of disappointing our friends and family, afraid of how strong my feelings were for you. I thought it was easier to ignore them, to push them away, to write them off as just a deep friendship. All I managed to do was make things infinitely worse. So, thank you for being brave enough for both of us."

"As much as I'd like to take all the credit for that at least, if I'm being totally honest, I'm going to have to give some of it to Michael Scott."

She gave a short, surprised laugh. "What?"

I took a breath, thinking how freeing it was going to be to confess everything I had thought and felt and experienced during these three years of loving her.

"Remember that night on the booze cruise? I thought I had finally hit bottom. I broke up with Katie that night to further punish myself—totally not fair to her, by the way. And I had tried earlier to tell you how I felt, but I was so petrified you'd reject me that I let my chance go by, and next thing I knew, you and Roy had set a date. I told myself that was it. I'd officially given up. And then Michael, in one of his rare flashes of insight, gave me a bit of advice."

I felt a warm drop of water hit my bare chest, and I reached up to Pam's face, wiping at her tears with my thumb.

"Don't, please. It wasn't your fault. And this all has a happy ending, remember?"

I felt her lips on mine, tangy now with the salt from her tears. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Now, what was this sage advice so I can thank our boss tomorrow?"

"Michael told me that, and I quote: _Engaged ain't married. _And said to _Never ever ever give up._"

"Wow. _Two _evers?"

"I swear to God."

I let that sink in.

"Hmph," she finally said in wonder. "Go figure…Well, I'm really glad you took that advice, Jim. I'm honestly grateful to him for encouraging you. God knows I was giving up, had resigned myself to settling for what was safe, what I knew."

"It only took me three more months to gather the courage and actually say something to you though," I added. "There had been countless moments in between when I had the opportunity. Like when I lied and said I really didn't have a crush on you anymore, for example."

"Oh, my God. I knew you were lying, but I had no right to have hurt feelings when you said it was a long time ago, that you were over it. And then Michael told me you'd said it the night of the booze cruise."

"Dammit, Michael," I muttered, only half amused.

She laughed. "We can't blame him for both our stupidity."

"I suppose not, but I totally blame him for his."

She settled against my chest again, and we were both lost in the shoulda woulda couldas of the past.

"As long as we're confessing," she said, "you should know I almost straight up asked you if you loved me, the night of the Dundies, and I was drunk enough that I would have said it back."

My heart skipped a beat. I remembered that night like it was yesterday, because she had kissed me in the middle of Chili's.

"You did?" I managed. "Why—why didn't you?"

"Because I realized we weren't alone, and I didn't want the humiliation of others seeing you rejecting me, and I certainly didn't want it to get back to Roy before I had the chance to break it to him myself. I guess I was sobering up by then, and I lost my courage. Too bad Michael hadn't been there to share some of his timely words of wisdom."

I grinned at that. "Yeah, too bad for both of us." And then I had to know. "Do you remember what else happened that night, earlier, when you got your Dundie?"

"Oh God…I made that stupid speech, didn't I? Did I actually say I felt God in that Chili's?"

"Yeah…" I prompted, smiling at the memory. Drunk Pam could be so adorable. "Anything else come to mind?"

"Before or after I kissed you?" Her words hung in the air a moment, while I lay there, in shock. She'd done such a great job hiding it all this time.

"Jesus, Beesly. This has driven me crazy for months!"

"Me too, honestly, when I remembered the next day. I could barely look at you for a week."

"Do we count that as our first kiss?" I asked.

She laughed. "I sort of assaulted you, so maybe no. Not something I'm particularly proud of, but I remember how much I liked it at the time. I even felt proud of myself for a minute, taking that chance. I was so pissed off at Roy…Alcohol makes you do some crazy things."

"Well, I for one am going to count it. It was the first time you acted like more than a friend to me. Friends don't normally kiss each other on the mouth."

"I like to think we did better, when you kissed me."

"I know _I _did. I was too shocked to kiss you back in Chili's."

She reached up, played with my hair. I'm sure it was even wilder than usual, since I'd gone to sleep with it wet, not to mention rolling around in bed with her.

"I think we've far surpassed both of those kisses since then," she said, moving up to whisper the words against my mouth.

"There's still plenty of room for improvement though," I said, before I found her lips in the dark.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When the doorbell rang I thought it was the Chinese food delivery. After an evening of making love, we were both famished, so I was excited for some lo mein and egg rolls. Wearing my flannel shirt and sweats again, my hair somewhat under control, I grabbed my wallet and opened the front door.

"That was fast—" I began.

It was _not _the delivery guy.

I blinked at the bright light from the camera crew, held up my hand to shield my eyes. A microphone was hoisted above my head. My stomach dropped at the intrusion into our love nest.

"Hey," said the producer. "Nice shiner."

"Thanks."

"Heard we might find Pam here too."

As if on cue, I heard Pam approaching, talking about making sure there was extra sweet and sour sauce. She was back in her yoga pants and another of my t-shirts, and I knew for a fact she wasn't wearing a bra.

"Oh," she said, crestfallen as well. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Hi guys."

"Just had a few questions for you," said the producer.

Pam and I looked at each other. Here was reality intruding, when we were about to get enough of that at work tomorrow. They'd left us alone for a few days, but we were both feeling suddenly very selfish and protective of our new relationship.

"No comment," we said together, and I shut the door in their faces.

"Come on guys, it's obvious you're together now," the producer called from the other side of the door.

"We'll see you tomorrow at the office," I replied. The real world could wait a few more hours.

I put my arm around Pam and led her to the living room. When the doorbell rang again, I was sure to look through the peephole first.

**THE END**

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this story enough to leave a review. Thanks for reading. I might have one more Office story in me. If not, I have written many other stories from several different fandoms. I'd love it if you have a look.**


End file.
